


Fellowship of Fetishism

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Fetish, Foot Fetish, Humor, Kinks, Other, Other M/M - Freeform, Other Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26212795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By Deidre.The fellowship are battling with fetishism. It's a tough life. This is Part 1.
Relationships: Boromir (Son of Denethor II)/Merry Brandybuck/Pippin Took, Frodo Baggins/Legolas Greenleaf
Kudos: 1
Collections: Least Expected





	1. Fellowship of Fetishism: Foot Fetish

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fellowship are battling with fetishism. It's a tough life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: f/l  
>  Series: Foot Fetish  
>  Disclaimer: Tolkien owns them but I promise I made this up!  
>  Feedback: yes, please! It's my first character LOTR's fic.

"I had a dream..." 

Legolas sat, perched delicately on the end of his chair, fidgeting uncharacteristically with the hem of his tunic. Galadriel sat opposite him, wearing her best "Open Your Soul To Me" expression. The Fellowship had arrived in Lothlorien, already with burdens weighing heavy. She had decided upon viewing them to allow each private council to try and ease their woes. 

"I want to suck them." 

Galadriel snapped out of her private moment of recollection and raised an eyebrow of polite interest at Legolas' admission. 

"Suck what, may I ask?" she inquired. 

Legolas looked at her as though she could not have been more blind to the obvious. 

"His feet!" he exclaimed, almost jumping from his chair in restlessness. "Their feet!" 

Galadriel let herself ponder this one. 

"Frodo. The Hobbits," she tried. 

"Of course," replied Legolas, settling back against the wood behind him, his eyes staring into the distance. "Frodo is the worst. Though Merry and Pippin flaunt theirs too. Sam causes me less frustration as he can barely be sighted, always trailing behind his beloved Frodo." 

Galadriel hesitated a guess. 

"You have developed a...fetish." 

Legolas blushed lightly, embarrassment tinting his cheeks. 

"I expect better of myself. Hobbit feet! At my age!" 

Galadriel reached across and patted him gently on the knee in comfort. 

"It is far from strange. We, being immortal creatures, tend to grow weary of the standard after barely a few centuries, looking instead for increasingly different levels of excitement to spice our lives." 

Legolas sighed. 

"You are wise, fair Galadriel. Yet while I see your logic I do not see how to control my lust for them. The dream I had..." 

"Tell me what you saw." 

"I dreamed of Frodo," Legolas began, his eyes glazing over in memory. "He was lying on a mattress of leaves and naked as the day of his birth. I walked towards him, placing myself at his...feet. They were lying there, as though on offer to me. So large...so hairy. So wonderfully inviting!" His pupils dilated as his memories swept by. "I reached down and lifted one into my hands. It was willing in my grasp. The toes...they even wiggled... I stroked my hand along the underside first, teasing myself with what I knew I wanted. The skin was so tough, so callused from use that I felt more courageous, as though it was not virgin territory I was breaching." 

Galadriel nodded for Legolas to continue, noting the deepening of lust within his voice. 

"I couldn't hold back, then," he continued. "I wanted so badly to stroke the soft hair upon the upperside. Run my fingers through the wild locks. I did so, but it was not enough. I could hear moans echoing through the woods, my own or those of the Hobbit, I did not know. It was too late then, for I lost my control as plunged the largest of the toes deep within my mouth, relishing the feel...the texture...the taste..." 

"The taste?" whispered Galadriel, squinting her nose ever so slightly. 

Legolas twisted his mouth into a shamed smile. 

"Yes, indeed the taste. Sweat and dirt..." He breathed softly, the memory strong in his mind. "I became a wild creature then, licking and sucking my way through each toe, each expanse of skin I could reach, around the curve of the heel... It was incredible, like nothing I had experienced before. The pull of desire was equal to that of the one ring. Yet were I to choose between the ring and the foot, I surely know which one I would succumb to first." 

Galadriel's brow furrowed. "The foot, you would take first, before the ring?" 

Legolas looked up at her with surprise. "Of course!" 

Galadriel sighed. 

"That fact along might indeed save your life. For that reason alone do I recommend that this fetish is not a habit I suggest you dispose of. Feel the pull of the feet, not of the ring. It will protect you from the darkness ahead." 

Legolas nodded at the words of wisdom. 

"What should I do about containing myself around the Hobbits?" he asked. 

Galadriel gave herself a moment before answering. 

"I suggest you focus your attentions upon your own feet for the time being, lacking in size and coat though they might be in comparison. During this time, gauge the feelings of Frodo and also of his Hobbit companions to see the likelihood of them offering their feet to you at some stage during your journey. It would be wise to share this burden with another in this way, for is not two stronger that one?" 

Legolas nodded, his mind set and clearer than it had been since the journey began. 

"I will do as you say, wise Galadriel," he replied, rising from his chair. "I must depart your presence now and test the ability of my own two feet to match the potential of those larger than mine." 

He eyed the ends of his legs with growing lust. 

"They will substitute suitably, I feel," he mumbled, walking delicately if not somewhat awkwardly from the meeting place. "Yes, I feel them beckoning me anon..." 

Galadriel stared after him, her eyes dancing with mirth as the strange ways of youth. She had known upon sighting the clan of nine strong, brave males approaching her home, that they would have stories in their souls of interest to her. Encouraging notes of affection within the hearts of men had developed into a strong past-time over her long life. The stranger the note, the better, she had always felt. Fetishes were her specialty and she was determined not to lose her one-thousand-year-strong tally with Celeborn just because nine youngsters chose to deny their lust for one another. 

The End.


	2. Fellowship of Fetishism 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fellowship are battling with Fetishism. It's a tough life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Other M/M  
>  Series: LoveyDovey Fetish  
>  Disclaimer: Not mine - I can accept that.

"What troubles you, dear Gimli?" 

Sitting opposite Galadriel, Gimli stirred uncomfortably in his chair, avoiding the contact of eyes as he mumbled low words in his own language. 

"I cannot ease your burden if you will not tell me what is your woe, young Gimli," tried Galadriel, an encouraging smile stretching the side of her mouth. 

Gimli grunted. 

"I need no help from an elf, wise though you claim to be," he retorted. 

"Then why are you here before me?" inquired Galadriel astutely. 

Gimli grunted once more and retreated into his mind to debate his choice of location. It was a mere few minutes before he came to a decision. 

"I am here for advice though I would appreciate this matter to stay within the confines of our ears only," he replied grudgingly. 

Galadriel nodded. "Please, tell me what is the problem," she prompted. 

"I seem to have developed...undwarf-like thoughts," Gimli replied ambiguously, his restlessness increasing as he strove to find comfort in his seat. 

"Are these feelings for another in the fellowship?" inquired Galadriel. 

"They seem to be so, yes," replied Gimli, resigning to the fact the words wished to leave his mouth. "I seem to be seeking...stability." He shuddered at the very words. 

"Stability with whom?" 

"Stability with...Sam," replied Gimli, the words barely registering through the muffle of his beard. 

Galadriel rose a delicate eyebrow. 

"Sam?" 

"Sam," repeated Gimli, daring her to challenge him on his feelings. He strove on, stubbornness bringing him courage. "He is of similar height to me, he seems pleasant and stable. ARGH!! This is so tainted a thought for a dwarf! We seek danger and heroism, not ten cooked meals and a warm hobbit to tell our woes to at the end of a long day!" 

Gimli jumped from his chair and began pacing the ground in frustration. "I do not know why these feelings taunt me! I find myself noting his dedication, his quiet homeliness, his domesticity. I dream of nights spent with him, beside a warm hearth, speaking words of romance through the early evening, and then retiring to bed at a reasonable hour as would befit such a scene." 

He shook his head in disgust at his own longing. 

"I would be mocked by my kind where they to know," he continued. "This is a very...unusual want for one such as I." 

Galadriel smiled kindly. 

"A fetish, you speak of?" 

"Yes, a fetish, it would be deemed," admitted Gimli as he sighed and took his seat once more. "A very perverted thought indeed." 

"And you have not tested Sam for a complimentary response to your want?" Galadriel probed. 

Gimli stared at her in shock. 

"To admit such a thing would leave me bare for ridicule!" he cried in horror. "And I think it unlikely that Sam would accept my desire for commitment when his heart seems to be with another of his kind," he finished sadly. 

"Frodo, you refer to?" nodded Galadriel, a statement more than a question. 

Gimli looked up, surprised. 

"Yes, Frodo." He sighed. "Their love is obvious to all then." 

Galadriel relaxed back in her chair in deep thought. It was a small while before she spoke again. 

"Have you considered others in the Fellowship to replace those not available to you?" she asked slowly. 

Gimli wore an expression of confusion. 

"There is no other of interest to me, nor another that could fill the void that the Hobbit would leave. He is one of a kind and the others are not of his ilk." 

Galadriel breathed in deeply. 

"Would you consider Legolas?" she said, her expression motionless. 

Gimli jumped from his chair, his face stretched in amazement and horror. 

"An elf?" he cried. "An elf and a dwarf? Why that is far worse than a Hobbit for a dwarf!" 

"You might see compatibility were you to look past your prejudices," rebutted Galadriel kindly yet sternly. "Legolas has much to offer you." 

"Such as what?" snorted Gimli, his posture filled with arrogance and pride. 

"Such as maturity of years, bringing with it a want for a quieter life," she replied. 

"I have seen no evidence of this," snapped Gimli, though his posture calmed noticeably in contradiction. 

"He hides it well," continued Galadriel. "He is a prince and a handsome one also so his stature would be worthy of your hand." 

Gimli tilted his head in recognition of his honour. 

"He also has interests of a kind you might well assist him with," finished Galadriel, sealing the bait. 

"And what would those interests be?" inquired Gimli, with false lightness. 

"Feet," Galadriel replied as she relaxed back against her chair once more. 

Gimli stared deep at her for moments as he absorbed her words. 

"Feet?" 

"Feet," she nodded. "It will be the point to win him by. Though, you might not have the size he lusts after." 

Galadriel smiled inwardly as she saw the bait taken by the ego within the dwarf before her. 

"I have size to equal any elf!" proclaimed Gimli, holding his head high. "Are you claiming me lacking in some area?" 

"Legolas lusts after the size and texture only a Hobbit can give him," spoke Galadriel calmly. "Could you challenge this and draw his interest with those you have?" 

Gimli rose indignantly. 

"I could and I will!" he yelled. "I will not be beaten in any realm of my life!" 

He strode with purpose from the meeting place, determined in his quest for a companion with which to live a domestic life. 

Galadriel laughed lightly as she watched him leave. Her tally was nearly equal to that of Celeborn's in their continual game of matching love. It was within her sights to bring together the many unions of the Fellowship of men. 

The End.


	3. Fellowship of Fetishism 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fellowship are battling with fetishism. It's a tough life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Boromir/Merry/Pippin  
>  Series: Relation Fetish  
>  Story Notes: This is Part 3.

Galadriel smiled with the wisdom of age as Merry and Pippin seated themselves opposite her in the confines of the meeting place. 

"I see you do not wish to speak privately of each other," she noted. "Would it be fair to note a continuing closeness in your hearts?" 

"Indeed it would be fair," murmured Merry, his hand resting lightly on the knee of his companion. 

"And would it be fair to note that you do indeed do everything together?" she asked further, intuition directing her words. 

"Yes we do!" They answered simultaneously. Yet then both paused with nerves in their hearts. Pippin spoke first. 

"That does seem to be our problem though. We wish to do _too_ much together." 

"More than is suitable for relations as close as we to do so," added Merry, pink tingeing his cheeks. 

"I believe I understand," spoke Galadriel, smiling kindly. "Please tell me your thoughts." 

Pippin spoke first, gaining courage from the elder elf's acceptance of their desires. 

"We find each other's company more than that of friendship. More than would be deemed platonic," he admitted. 

"You are concerned by this?" asked Galadriel. 

"Yes!" exclaimed Merry, speaking bravely. "We find it trying to even sight each other without...wanting more." 

"We take comfort in each other's arms at night as all do, yet it is more than that were any to see beneath the bedding above us," added Pippin with a small smile. 

"Even seated here now, together..." spoke Merry, his voice lowering with desire. "It is more than I can cope." 

Pippin met his eyes and reflected their emotion. "I feel as he feels." 

Galadriel coughed lightly to draw attention. 

"You are attracted solely for the love of each other in heart?" she asked. "To be related is an unfortunate side notion?" 

The question floated gently yet persistently in the air before an answer came. 

"To note that we are relations would be to state one reason for our attraction," admitted Pippin quietly. 

"We are drawn together _because_ we are related," reiterated Merry, his voice dancing fast over the words in nervousness. 

The two hobbits leaned in to each other's arms as they waited for a response. Galadriel smiled as she viewed the language of their bodies and the childlike nerves in their eyes. 

"I am not here to judge your choice of love," she replied, bringing forth a sigh of relief from both hobbits. "Though I claim it unusual you admit your love began not due to compatibility but rather due to the closeness of your family positions. What is your concern?" 

"We feel we have developed a fetish for those who could be placed as relations," spoke Pippin bravely. "Already in our journey we have considered the position of the wise Gandalf as our grandfather, of Frodo and Sam as cousins, of Aragorn as father, of Gimli and Boromir as uncles both." 

Galadriel raised her eyebrow in acknowledgment of the extent of consideration their thoughts had taken. 

"And have you both braved mention of this to any of those who are your companions?" 

"No!" shrieked Merry and Pippin in unison, embarrassment and shock in their demeanor. 

"Would it be fair to claim you have wished to speak these thoughts to some?" prompted Galadriel calmly. 

The two hobbits huddled together in whispered debate before answering. 

"Boromir," they spoke together. 

"Boromir?" queried Galadriel. 

"Boromir," they replied. 

Galadriel leaned forward in her chair, interest in her eyes. 

"And why, might I ask, is Boromir the favourite of your attentions?" 

Merry spoke first, Pippin close following in response. 

"An uncle, and a worthy one!" 

"An uncle, and an attractive one!" 

"He is both restrained energy in spirit," expanded Merry, "and rough in the depths of his nature." 

"We feel a bond," continued Pippin, "for he protects us as though we are nephews he is minding under his wing." 

Galadriel nodded. "You wish him to play the part of your uncle?" 

"Yes!" exclaimed both hobbits. "Uncle Boromir and his favourite nephews!" added Merry, delighting in the thought. 

Galadriel could not help the twinkle of her eyes and the smile of her mouth as she envisioned the scene. 

"My advice is a such," she stated finally. "Probe Boromir for a closer companionship, for to mention your want for relations is far from essential for his mind to know. Speak not of your 'uncle' at first, instead close the gap of body and emotion for only then will he be more willing to accept a role to act." 

Both hobbits nodded with excitement. "We can do that!" 

"Furthermore," she continued, "to add focus of another to your lives might lesson the intensity between you both. The level of control you seek in your own relationship you might find in result." 

Merry and Pippin nodded their heads in awe of the wisdom before them. 

"We thank you, wise Galadriel!" they spoke in unison. 

Galadriel smiled. "Then go, dear hobbits, go now. Find your 'uncle' and set forth your path!" 

The two hobbits leapt forth from their chairs and scampered off through the trees, leaving only the shadow of hasty farewells in their wake. 

Galadriel indulged in a broad smile. Soon she would be even with Celeborn. Soon she would hold title of Maker of Love. Patience would be her champion. 

The End.


	4. Fellowship of Fetishism 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fellowship are battling with fetishism. It's a tough life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Other M/M  
>  Series: Ring Fetish  
>  Disclaimer: Not mine - Tolkiens.  
>  Story Notes: This is Part 4.

Boromir sat tense in the chair facing Galadriel, dark clouds of disturbance shadowing his features. 

"I need guidance," he spoke, "for I am cursed with obsession." 

Galadriel nodded, her features sincere and focused. 

"I have heard. The pull of the ring is strong within you." 

Boromir breathed deeply, his eyes clouding as he became restless in his seat. "I must have it." 

"It is not yours to take," noted Galadriel, her voice stern beneath its apparent calm. 

"You do not understand!" cried Boromir, rising from his seat to pace the ground. "He flaunts it to me! Flirting it..." 

"All feel the pull of the ring," replied Galadriel. "Though I have heard none use the term 'flirt' to describe its power before." 

Boromir glanced over, distractedly, his own thoughts far dominating his mind. 

"Do you wish to hear what I want from it?" he asked. "Do you wish to hear how it beckons to me in my dreams?" He strode to his seat once more and fell back against the solid wood of its structure. 

"Please tell me, then, Boromir," prompted Galadriel. "Tell me of its pull." 

"I dream at night of it," he began, his eyes falling closed as the memory flooded through. "I want to push my finger inside, feel it tight around me..." 

Galadriel raised an eyebrow. "An unusual choice of language." 

Boromir's eyes snapped open, his gaze curious. "Would you think?" he asked lightly. "I had not noticed." 

"Speak more of the ring," Galadriel prompted, interest rising in her mind. "Speak more of the dreams that haunt you." 

"I see it before me, glowing a beckoning light," Boromir began, again allowing his eyes to slip focus. "It sings an unearthly song, pulling me with force towards its perfect shape. I try to resist yet my body is filled with desire and I cannot. I reach towards it, hovering as it is within my reach. I extend one finger; the energy dances through me with the first contact. It is the same each night. I trace the edges, delicately around its surface, feeling it demand me entry. I no longer try to resist, and so in turn I slide my finger in what I feel could not possibly accommodate my size... Yet with each thrust further through I feel the ring widen, loosening around my touch until it envelops me entirely...until it joins as one with my body..." 

Galadriel breathed deeply before choosing her reply. 

"I sense...an underlying issue," she suggested, speaking carefully. 

Boromir met her eyes, confusion apparent. 

"Of what kind?" he asked. "Is it not obvious that the ring pulls me? That it is the ring which I am unnaturally focused towards?" 

"It would seem..." began Galadriel, delicately treading the path of the conversation, "that the ring you speak of might indeed be a metaphor for a deeper want." 

Boromir leaned forward from his seat, eyes clear and unsure. "What is this metaphor you speak of?" 

"Have you considered your feelings for Frodo himself?" she asked, casual in her questioning. 

"Frodo?" 

"Frodo," she repeated with a nod of her head. 

"Jealousy, do you refer to? That I wish to be keeper of the ring?" 

Galadriel sighed for it was a long and difficult path she could see before her. 

"No, dear Boromir, not jealousy. I speak instead of feelings of a more physical nature." 

"Violence, then?" Boromir queried, his mind unsure of direction. "I admit having felt the pull of aggravation against the hobbit, though I do swear the ring was both motivation and puppeteer of my motions. 

"No, dear Boromir, not violence," Galadriel responded. "I speak of feelings that direct you to wish more than friendship from the young hobbit. Of a closer relationship with Frodo," she reiterated, one delicate eyebrow risen in effect. 

It was barely a second before the words were made clear to Boromir, and he let his eyes widen greatly in response. 

"You believe I have feelings for Frodo?" he cried in shock. "You believe the dreams of the ring are not in fact the One Ring, but instead..." he let his voice trail into silence as surprise halted his words. 

"Indeed," confirmed Galadriel, a slight smile upon her lips. 

Boromir rose from his chair, pacing heavily the ground beneath his feet as his mind churned in thought. It was minutes before he once again resumed his seat and met again the stare of Galadriel. 

"You are wise indeed, Galadriel," he acknowledged with a tilt of his head, "for you could see clearly in my own head what I could not imagine for even one moment." 

"The question then, dear Boromir," replied Galadriel, "is what you wish to do with this knowledge." 

"That question indeed has already entered my mind, I do see it watching me, willing me to supply an answer," Boromir replied, letting himself fall back against the support of the chair. "I should approach Frodo, I believe, though I would think him unsure of my advance. I suspect he loves another." 

"Sam," finished Galadriel, as though reading the word from his mind. "I would not be quick to read the hearts of others before understanding your own." 

Boromir nodded in acquiescence. "What then do you suggest?" 

"I suggest a substitute until your heart decides your path," answered Galadriel. "Tell me, dear Boromir, would not two rings be greater than one?" 

Boromir stared blankly towards her, traces of obvious interest revealed beneath. "I do not understand." 

Galadriel smiled as she leaned towards him in her seat. "I speak of two relations, both within your Fellowship, whom I believe would accommodate your need for knowledge and exploration." 

Boromir's eyes widened. "Are you speaking of Merry and Pippin?" he exclaimed in surprise. 

"Indeed I am," spoke Galadriel. 

Boromir let the thought this revelation had provoked play itself before his mind. It was not long before a decision was made. 

"I will do as your wisdom guides," he stated, sure in his decision. "And I thank you for your council." 

Galadriel managed barely a nod of her head before only the back of the man could be seen, hurrying fast from the meeting place in search of his goal. 

She smiled to herself once more. The minds of the young were easy to guide. 

The End.


	5. Fellowship of Fetishism 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fellowship are battling with fetishism. It's a tough life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Other Threesome  
>  Series: Two Fetishes are Better than One  
>  Disclaimer: Still not mine. Still Tolkiens.  
>  Story Notes: This is Part 5.  
> 

Galadriel was not to wait long before young Frodo stepped foot into the meeting place of choice. 

"You seek council, Ringbearer," she nodded, unsurprised by his decision to meet. 

"I am troubled by twice the woes placed upon my fellows," replied Frodo, falling in misery into his seat. "I sense their feelings, their demons, and while I cannot deny them this, all I see is twice torment within myself." 

"This cannot surprise me, young Frodo," replied Galadriel kindly. "For it is you that carries the heaviest of burdens upon all other troubles. You carry the One Ring." 

Frodo glanced up, frustration of a kind framed momentarily in his drawn features. 

"The Ring is a trouble, indeed," he replied, waving his hand as though the matter were of no consequence to him. "Yet it is not alone my demon." 

Confusion sparked forward Galadriel as she leaned in her chair. 

"The ring does not demand the most?" she queried in surprise. "There is something larger at force in your mind?" 

"Indeed there is," replied Frodo, shifting restlessly in his chair. "Not one but two burdens demand obedience." 

"Speak of them, then!" cried Galadriel, concern in her voice. "Is there a darker presence than known over this already tortured land?" 

Frodo shook his head, sorrow deep in his voice. 

"Not over the land, no, wise Galadriel," he replied. "The burdens I speak of exist only within my mind." 

"Please tell of them, then," persisted Galadriel, her voice at calm once again. 

"I feel shame at even the admittance of their existence," muttered Frodo, his eyes finding interest in the ground. 

"I do not judge," reassured Galadriel, a smile upon her face. "Please speak." 

It was a long moment before the courage Frodo sought revealed itself and the words could leave his mouth. 

"I find myself twice obsessed, not with the ring but with fellow companions," began Frodo, his voice soft. Gaining confidence as he spoke, he continued again. "With a wizened age, do I find great attraction in one. In another it is the bulk of his load, carried always around his midline, food supplying the sustenance of its existence." 

Galadriel let silence reign as she pondered the words presented to her. 

"It is Gandalf at his great age that attracts you once, and twice is the pull of lust felt for the girth of padding found around dear Sam's stomach." 

Frodo gasped, so awed by the wise elf's insight. 

"Indeed that is my woe!" he cried. 

"Tell me more," prompted Galadriel, curiosity sparked. "Speak of how this began and speak of how it continues." 

Frodo let himself rest back into the embrace of the chair as he began his tale. 

"I will begin with wise Gandalf. It is not only his years that attract me so, it is also how they are reflected within his form. The whiteness of his hair, the wrinkled texture of his skin, the complaints of his aged body... I cannot help but stare! For is it not the pull of old age that I feel?" 

"A fetish for the aged," murmured Galadriel. 

"Indeed it is," replied Frodo, as though in longing. "I feel it strong. It began long ago, though that relevance is not large to this tale. It was when Gandalf again returned to Bag End, to speak of the ring and to set me upon this journey, that I again felt his age arrest me. I could barely contain my wits when I sighted him, jumping wildly upon his form as though possessed! And since," he continued, with a moment to pause, "since then I find each of his actions a lure to my desire. I wish to stroke his pale beard, lick paths across the sharp grooves in his skin. Kiss his gummed lips and place my mouth upon the drooping skin of his manhood. When he falters in step, I wish to take place of a walking stick and allow him to grasp me instead." 

"I have not known Gandalf to show his age to the extent you see," spoke Galadriel with concern. "I had thought him strong in his years." 

"Oh, you mock my dreams!" cried Frodo. "Speak not of the truth but instead of what I wish were true for I desire it so!" 

Galadriel smiled knowingly. "I do understand. Please, speak of Sam now and let me understand your desires for him also." 

"His girth attracts me so," admitted Frodo, a pink hue to his cheeks as he spoke. "The plumpness which envelops him is a delight to my eyes." 

"A fetish for podge, you would say?" 

"Indeed, it is," spoke Frodo. "I had not realised the extent to which I found those inviting rolls of his body so becoming. We sleep tight together each night of this difficult journey, serving only as a worsened distraction to me. Every night do I curve my arms around him, grasping hold of those dependable handles. I want nothing more than to kneed them like dough, or bury my face in them as the sweetest death of all." He paused in his recital, gaining control of his breathing once more. "Yet it is not only his stomach I wish to hold. The generous folds of skin, smooth on their texture and rounded like the rolling sea, I see upon all of him. I wish to worship them for I have seen no beauty like it before!" 

"Yet would it not be fair to say Gandalf cannot supply an interest to you in this way?" queried Galadriel. "Or indeed that Sam cannot give you the age you desire? Where then does this leave you?" 

"That is my dilemma!" cried Frodo in anguish filled with frustration and lust. "Together they offer all I need, though together I cannot have them. Gandalf is but bones through skin, a sight which attracts me only in his age. Sam has the soft padding I desire, yet not the age of which I feel pulled towards." 

Galadriel fell into deep contemplation as the situation played before her mind. 

"While together you cannot have them as one, could you not instead have them as two?" she asked, her voice confident. "I speak of the closeness you have within the fellowship with both. Aged Gandalf is dedicated to you wholly, as is young Sam. Why not, therefore, approach both as one and express your need for more closeness, more comfort in this time of need. You need not express feelings for age or girth yet, for those are things which will fall into place once you have gained a deeper position within their hearts. Do you understand me, dear Frodo?" 

Frodo nodded his head, hope in his soulful eyes. "Indeed I do, wise Galadriel," he replied. "I shall let emotion guide me into their hearts, with tearful eyes and an expression of need. They will respond well, you believe?" 

"Indeed I do, young Frodo," replied Galadriel with a smile, "for who could refuse such a confrontation of expression from one with such features as yours?" 

Frodo laughed aloud in delight as the future played before his eyes. 

"I thank you, dear Galadriel!" he cried as he rose from his chair. "I will do as you say and gain what I truly desire!" 

Feeling overcome with emotion, Frodo leapt forward into a deep embrace with his savior, and sprang light-footed off into the paths of the trees. 

Galadriel smiled. She had noticed already the worry within Celeborn's features. She knew the competition they held would soon be won by her, for indeed the Love of Men need only be gently prodded before it would each time blossom before her very eyes. 

The End.


	6. Fellowship of Fetishism 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fellowship are battling with fetishism. It's a tough life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Other  
>  Series: Shortstuff Fetish  
>  Disclaimer: I really do wish they were mine. Shame they're not.  
>  Story Notes: This is Part 6.  
> 

"Gandalf, my dear friend, please take a seat," spoke Galadriel as the wizard stepped into the meeting place to seek council. 

"I am troubled," Gandalf did admit, his head bowed in shame. 

"Please, speak of your woes," spoke Galadriel, concern in her features. 

"I fear an old demon has arisen in my heart," he whispered as he took a seat. "It has haunted me for many a long year, never more so than now." 

"You staff and your greater power protects you from such torments, do they not?" queried Galadriel. 

"My staff is my downfall," replied Gandalf with the slightest of smiles. "For the demon is my thoughts and my staff is only sometimes wood." 

Galadriel raised her eyebrow as the meaning behind the cryptic words revealed itself to her. "I see," she spoke with a gleam in her eyes. "You are burdened with attraction." 

Gandalf sighed. 

"Indeed, I am," he replied. "I have tried to resist these thoughts, yet the convenience of such a situation keeps the allure strong." 

"Please tell me more," spoke Galadriel, leaning forward in her chair. 

Gandalf moved uncomfortably in his chair before settling and speaking again. 

"I have for many years favoured the company of Hobbits. I have spent wonderful times in Hobbiton, especially surrounded by the Bagginses. And now, of course, upon this journey I have the pleasing company of not one but four Hobbits!" He sighed loud in frustration. "It is almost too much to bear!" 

"What is your concern?" asked Galadriel, still missing the trouble behind the words. 

Gandalf settled again, this time eyeing the ground as he made his admission. "It is their height." 

"Their height?" 

"Yes, indeed, their height," confirmed Gandalf. Rising from his seat, he began pacing the ground, caught in his thoughts. "Their stature is so...convenient. Their heads reach just to the right height. Many times in Bag End before this journey began did I encounter groin moments with my dear friend Bilbo." He stopped his pacing to stare Galadriel full in the face. "And now, upon this journey do my troubles haunt me again. I am surrounded by Hobbits! And even a dwarf, were that not enough! I find myself turning suddenly when they walk behind so one will knock into my larger manhood. Or I wish to carry their slight bodies in my arms, so friendly a bundle they are. Gimli I resist easier for he is not so willing and open in his love for me. The Hobbits are the most of my demons, for they are so pleasing. Many a night have I wished to attach all four around me; two for my chest and back, and two for my legs - front and back. I have thought of it much!" 

"A fetish for those of short stature, you would say?" summed Galadriel. 

Gandalf nodded his acceptance of her words. "Indeed. It is causing me troubles above even the wants I have already mentioned. I am finding injury a close companion too." 

"How is this so?" 

Gandalf tinted red to his cheeks. "I find my eyes focused down so often that I do not see the dangers above," he replied, reaching to his forehead to touch a lump which he had gained from a low-hanging tree branch earlier that day. 

"I see," replied Galadriel with a smile. 

"I need your council," admitted Gandalf. "I see no relief from my troubles and my mind is becoming increasingly distracted from the quest at hand." 

There was barely a pause before Galadriel made her decision and spoke again. 

"It is simple to my mind to form the solution to your problem. I do suggest you follow the course of action I do speak of now. First, seek the company of young Frodo, for it is he I plainly see has the most want of your lap to rest his head. Approach with all the wisdom of your aged years and speak long of your days of times before his birth. I see this clearly is the opening to his heart. You must trust me with this." 

Gandalf nodded, confusion slight in his eyes. "I agree to this." 

"The next step is easy," continued Galadriel. "For where Frodo walks does Sam follow. To gain one should indeed gain the other." 

Gandalf nodded, seeing the logic behind these words. 

"And lastly," spoke the elf, "strange though my words might seem, I have a different path for you to follow for young Merry and Pippin. They come as a pair, and to this end you will do well to approach them with the love a grandfather might have for his young grandchildren. They will respond well, I do suspect." 

Gandalf nodded. "They must miss their families much, to want the loving purity of a comforting grandfather." 

Galadriel had a glint to her eye as she replied. "Indeed maybe that is one reason, if it is the reason you choose." 

Gandalf sighed as he rose from his chair. 

"I thank you deeply, kind Galadriel," he spoke, leaning forward to rest one aged limb on her shoulder in friendship. "You have eased my suffering and my mind is lessened of the burden it has carried for far too long. I will do as your words guide." 

Stepping lightly from the meeting place, he was soon gone from sight. 

Galadriel smiled, for with each meeting her own mind was lightened in its burden. It was the burden of worry that she might lose her tally with Celeborn, yet by now she was certain that this worry would soon no longer concern her. Her council was sought and her victory was in reach. She thanked her inner guidance for it was that which directed not only herself but also the hearts of those who came to see her. 

**THE END.**


	7. Fellowship of Fetishism 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fellowship are battling with fetishism. It's a tough life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Other M/M  
>  Series: Manly Stubble Fetish  
>  Disclaimer: Oh why oh why can't they be MINE?? They're just not, and that's it.  
>  Story Notes: This is Part 7.

Young Sam Gamgee walked almost apologetically into the meeting place of Galadriel. Taking a seat opposite the elf, he fumbled nervously with his clothing. 

"You have troubles on your mind, dear Sam?" spoke Galadriel, smiling with reassurance. "There is no need to feel judged within this place." 

Sam smiled, her words relaxing his posture. 

"I do have troubles, yes," he admitted. "I find myself attracted strongly to another in the fellowship and I know not how to act." 

Galadriel nodded. 

"It is Frodo you speak of," she replied understandingly. "I see it clearly as do others. You are both close-" 

"I am so sorry to interrupt, fairest Galadriel!" gushed Sam, nerves tingeing his words. "For I must say that I am confused. You believe it is Frodo for which I have an attraction?" 

Galadriel was caught momentarily without words. 

"You...are not attracted to Frodo?" she asked, clearly surprised. 

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I feel the attraction of a friend, yes, but Master Frodo is like a brother to me. It would be most strange indeed to be attracted to another if I thought of him as a relation, would you not think?" 

Galadriel could not help but let a small laugh escape her lips before she replied. "Yes, indeed Sam, that would be most strange." 

"I apologize again," continued Sam with confusion. "But did you say that you and others believe that I am attracted to Frodo?" 

"Oh, yes indeed I did say that," replied Galadriel, feeling slightly humbled in her years by her mistake in observation. "We had thought as much as you are so doting on your companion. Spending time with him, sleeping with him, and speaking often of him. These are the reasons we thought as we did." 

Sam seemed not convinced but chose to let the matter go to give preference to his actual troubles. "Might I instead talk of my true love?" 

"Yes, please do," replied Galadriel, glad for the change of topic. "Who is it then that you speak of?" 

"Aragorn, of course!" exclaimed Sam in a sudden, his expression lighting at the thought. 

"Aragorn?" 

"Aragorn!" confirmed Sam. "He is a tall one, indeed, but I still feel the relationship could blossom. He is unlike any other I have known - so strong yet restrained. So courageous and fierce. He is masculine in a way I have never encountered before." 

"Then what is the trouble you speak of?" asked Galadriel. 

Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I seem to have become fixated with him in a rather specific way," he admitted. "He has...growth upon his face which I cannot ignore!" 

"Stubble, you speak of?" queried Galadriel. 

"Yes, for the beginnings of a beard he has continually. It is like nothing I have witnessed before! For whence it begins it stays true. Do you understand my words?" 

Galadriel nodded. "You speak of how Aragorn seems to achieve the same length of beginning growth without it ever lengthening or indeed being shortened by the blade of a knife." 

"I do!" exclaimed Sam emphatically. "For surely it must be magic! I cannot understand its ways, but it holds my attention strong. I want so much to feel its sharpness, kiss it until a rash would appear from its harsh love. I myself have never grown a beard of any degree, and neither have most of my kind - it is such an extraordinary feature that I am concerned that my attraction is based solely on its presence upon Aragorn's face. He is a man like no other I have ever known." 

"Manly stubble," murmured Galadriel, though Sam's sharp ears registered the words. 

"Yes, that is my woe!" he cried. "Please, fair Galadriel, guide me in how to face this obsession." 

"You mentioned earlier that you felt the difference in height might be troubling to this intended relationship," she replied after giving much thought to the matter. 

"I did," spoke Sam. "For the object of my obsession is always to far out of my reach to possess!" 

"Then instead I offer an alternative," continued Galadriel. "Have your thoughts ever strayed towards Gimli?" She paused to allow Sam a moment's reflection. "I speak of him for if you find the beginning beard of Aragorn pleasant in view, then could you not be ready to tackle the challenge of a far greater growth of forest upon the face of your companion dwarf?" 

Sam's expression was open and clear as the emotions of suggestion entered his mind. "I do see this as a possibility, yes!" he cried. "This might well be the solution I am seeking!" 

Springing from his seat, Sam rushed forward to embrace the elf, before stepping back in excitement and embarrassment. 

"I am sorry but I am so cheered by this I must act upon it now!" he cried, before rushing off through the trees, shouting words of thanks behind him. 

Galadriel was again left alone in her meeting place. Celeborn soon walked into view, a forced smile upon his face. 

"I see we are now even," he spoke to her, to which she nodded. 

"I have one more to council and then we will see the end of the tally," she replied with confidence. "For can even you not clearly see how easy it is to guide their hearts along the path they already wish to take?" 

Celeborn nodded without words and left the clearing. Galadriel indulged in a smile and waited patiently for her final meeting to commence. 

**THE END.**


	8. Fellowship of Fetishism 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fellowship are battling with fetishism. It's a tough life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: Other Threesome  
>  Series: Hidden Fetishes  
>  Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, oh no!  
>  Story Notes: This is the final part - 8.

The night was falling as Aragorn strode into the clearing. Galadriel was seated opposite an empty chair and was waiting patiently as though in meditation. 

"I am here to seek your council," spoke Aragorn quietly, but way of introduction to their meeting. 

Galadriel nodded, her thoughts brought to the present. "Then please, take a seat and let us talk." 

Aragorn strode forward and fell smoothly into the offered chair. It was a moment before he spoke again. 

"The reason I had come tonight has changed since I left my chambers," he said. "I had thought to speak of an attraction I have developed for one companion of mine, yet now I have shifted my attentions to another." 

"Why is this so?" asked Galadriel. "And why so suddenly?" 

Aragorn sighed as he fell more comfortable in his seat. "I had passed Sam upon coming here tonight. He looked as delighted as I have not seen him in many a long time. I asked him what had freed his mind so clearly, and he replied that he must speak urgently to Gimli. I did not need to question him further for I could see the attraction of lust in his eyes as he spoke of the dwarf." 

"What then is your woe?" asked Galadriel. "Was it Sam to which you were attracted and now you see his eyes are on another?" 

"No!" exclaimed Aragorn, surprised by the idea. "Though I must admit that I was curious that Sam was seeking Gimli for I was sure that his heart was firmly bonded to Frodo." 

"An easy mistake," comforted Galadriel, choosing not to expand on her words. "Then tell me the true situation that troubles you." 

Aragorn's brow furrowed as his thoughts become less than clear. "I was attracted to Gimli," he began. 

"Gimli?" exclaimed Galadriel. 

"Yes, Gimli," replied Aragorn, daring a comment, but none was given. "I was attracted to his great mass of beard. He is the hairiest of creatures I have ever witnessed! I fear it could well have been jealousy as no matter how hard I try, I can grow no more than stubble. I could leave it for weeks and it would be no longer than a baby's tooth!" 

"Jealousy is not a kind master," spoke Galadriel. "You have done well to break free from its binds." 

"You speak truly," replied Aragorn, glad for the comfort in his decision to leave this attraction. 

"You spoke though of a newly blossomed love for another?" prompted Galadriel. "One that breached your mind not moments before our meeting?" 

"Ah, yes," sighed Aragorn, shifting in his seat. "It does seem that my attraction of hair has indeed carried its focus to another. For no sooner had I taken my mind's eye from Gimli that I instantly was struck with a vision of the long flowing locks of Legolas..." He paused in his telling, his mind focused deep on the vision of beauty it presented. "What I wouldn't give to run my fingers through those silvery strands. Or to feel that silken touch flowing over my naked body as he would lower himself down from my head to waist as we lay together..." 

Galadriel took a moment to compose her thoughts before replying. 

"While I do understand the attraction you have, would it not seem fair to see this obsession as yet another branch of your fetish for those gifted with much hair? Would it not be another form of jealousy hidden deep within your mind? Possibly a want for a level of care that your own hair does not currently possess?" 

Aragorn thought hard at this. 

"I do see your observation as valid," he acknowledged reluctantly. "What then do you suggest? Keep in mind I would find it most difficult to turn my eyes from Legolas now they are focused upon him." 

"I suggest a distraction," replied Galadriel with a smile. "Your focus is fair and I suggest it stays. It is only the matter of hair that I wish to guide you from. Tell me, you have seen attraction in elves before?" 

"Yes," admitted Aragorn. "Arwen held my attention though to this day I do not know why. There was something indefinable about her that I could not resist. I must admit, I do feel the same pull from Legolas, though why I cannot say." 

"Then let me guide you through the features of an elf, for it must be that which fixates you so," replied Galadriel. "First, I direct you towards the graceful stature..." 

"No, that it not quite it," murmured Aragorn. 

"Then maybe the androgynous beauty..." 

"Still not quite, no," replied Aragorn. 

"Then maybe his ears, curved and large..." 

"Yes! Oh, yes!" cried Aragorn, leaping from his seat in the emotion of the revelation. "The ears!" 

Galadriel smiled and waited patiently for him to calm. 

"It is his ears!" cried Aragorn again, as though still amazed by the realisation. "The curved rim, the pointed top I want nothing more than to run my tongue over. And the size... so much bigger than those of my kind!" 

"I am glad you have found your true feelings," spoke Galadriel, pleased with Aragorn's discovery. 

"I will leave immediately and pursue him with the full force of my will!" cried Aragorn, the heat of lust burning in his eyes. "I will have them...those tempting lobes, beckoning me to suck them deep within my mouth... My manhood, tracing circles around the curves of elastic skin..." 

The visions were too much to bear and Aragorn flew swiftly from the meeting place, intend on his location. 

Galadriel smiled as she watched him leave, pleased with her victory. 

* * *

Celeborn walked quietly into the meeting place, head bowed in acknowledgement of Galadriel's victory. 

"The tally is won by you, I concede," he spoke as he took the emptied chair. "Though I must ask... Have you not directed all towards another in a tangle of intentions and desire, bar for two...?" 

"Yes," Galadriel smiled. "Legolas I directed to himself, and none other I directed to Aragorn." As she rose she spoke with calm confidence. "Have no fear, dear Celeborn, for with feet as ripe and soiled as those of great Strider, it will not be long before our Elf Prince follows his nose to bind the final love between them both." 

And with those words, she departed. 

**THE END.**


End file.
